


Springtime For Hitler

by blankety blank (doll_revolution)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doll_revolution/pseuds/blankety%20blank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My little take on a traditional fanfic situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Springtime For Hitler

## Springtime For Hitler

by Blankety

Pet Fly and Paramount own these characters, and I do not. Make of that what you wish.  


As always, for the great and glorious Alyjude. Go read her!

Yes, I KNOW the title sucks, and has no relation to the story at all. But Alyjude liked it, so what's a priestess to do?

* * *

Blair Sandburg scrubbed his hands across his face and shoved his body into the corner of the couch. He looked across Simon Bank's office to find the man himself, perched on the corner of his desk, drinking a cup of coffee. 

Blair sighed. "Simon, could you tell me, again, what the HELL I am doing in your office at" he squinted at the clock, "one-fifteen in the morning?" 

Simon took another sip of coffee and glared at Blair over the rim of the cup. Blair moved his hands in a 'go on - tell me already' gesture, so Simon put down his coffee and walked over to the couch. 

"As I've told you -three times now, Sandburg- we got a tip that the Farelli brothers were back in town. Seeing as how we, the police department, take a dim view of people trying to unload automatic weapons in our city, I kind of thought we'd catch them in the act, arrest them, that sort of thing?" 

"Uh-huh, I got that, Simon. What I mean is: why am I HERE, in your office, rather than scrunched between you and Jim in the truck, freezing to death and watching some boring old warehouse?" 

"We're waiting for Jim." 

"Who is -where? Jogging his way in? We've been here for almost half an hour!" 

Simon turned to look at the clock. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really. I don't GET a lot of sleep, man. I know how much I miss. I've been on your couch, and NOT in my bed, for twenty-seven minutes." 

"Huh." Simon looked thoughtful. "Jim called from his cell about twelve-thirty. He said he was going to stop off at the locker room, grab a shower, and be right up." 

Blair sat up, suddenly alert. "Shower? What did he need a shower for? Wasn't he just on a stake-out with Rafe?" 

"Yeah, but then the suspect showed. Jim chased him down, they ended up tumbling into a garden. Jim was covered with dirt and fertilizer." 

"Shit!" Blair stood up and began pacing around the office. "Why don't you TELL me these things, Simon? Huh? How am I supposed to help Jim if nobody tells me anything?" 

"Calm down, Sandburg! It's just a little mud." 

"'Just a little mud' he says! Yeah, just a little mud, and FERTILIZER! We're talking ammonia, nitrates, phosphorous, god alone knows what kind of pesticides-who knows what kind of reaction Jim could be having!" 

"Oh, for crying out loud! Don't you thinking you're overreacting? Jim-" 

"-isn't here, is he, Simon? The man's ex-army, do you really think he takes hour-long showers?" Blair stopped pacing. "Something's wrong. I'm just going to go check on him." He flung open the office door and walked through the bullpen. 

"Sandburg!" Blair turned to see Simon glaring at him from the doorway of his office. "You just can't go busting in on a guy while he's taking a shower!" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Oh, please! If I didn't bust in on him, like on a daily basis, I'd NEVER get my teeth brushed!" He pushed open the doors to Major Crimes and headed for the elevators. 

Simon shook his head. "TMI, Sandburg, TMI." He sighed, and started to follow Blair to the locker room. He stopped and patted his hip, making sure he had his gun with him. Just in case. You never know, when you're dealing with the Sandburg Zone. You just never know. 

* * *

Blair slowly pushed open the door to the locker room. Truth be told, he felt a little foolish, checking on Jim, but after the attitude he'd given Simon he didn't really think he could back down. "Jim?" He tilted his head. He could hear a shower running. "Hey, big guy, you about done, yet? Simon and I have been waiting on you for almost an hour." 

There was no answer, although Blair could still hear the shower running. He started around the far bank of lockers. "Jim? You're starting to freak me out, okay? Just say something, and then I can tell Simon what an idiot-" 

Blair felt his entire body turn to ice, as he stood shaking, unable to take another step forward. From far away, he could hear a quavering voice saying 'ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.' With a start, he realized that was HIS voice. He swallowed hard and suddenly he could move. He threw himself to his knees beside Jim's still body. 

So much blood. There was SO much blood. He placed a trembling hand on Jim's neck. Warm, it was still warm. Blair pressed his fingers against the artery, and held his breath. Yes! A pulse! It was slow and sluggish, but it was there. Suddenly dizzy, Blair fell forward, hands splashing on the floor, spattering his shirt with blood. Jim's blood. He fisted his hands into Jim's shirt, and pulled him up into his lap, holding him tight. He was still on his knees, rocking Jim, when Simon found them. 

* * *

Eleven hours later, Simon paced the hallway in front of Jim's hospital room. Jim still hadn't regained consciousness, Blair wouldn't leave his side, all of Major Crimes had been mobilized, and he STILL had no idea of who had tried to kill Jim. Sometimes being the captain sucked. 

He entered Jim's room and winced. Jim somehow looked even worse cleaned up. Half of his face was puffy and bruised, his nose was broken, he had an ugly line of stitches trailing up into his hair, and his entire body was covered in huge black and green welts. 

Sandburg looked just as bad. He had huge dark circles under his eyes, his clothes were splotched and stiff with dried blood, and he was gripping Jim's hand so tightly his knuckles were white. 

Simon walked over and placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Sandburg, you look like shit. Why don't you go home, take a shower-" 

"No." 

"Sandburg. Blair-" 

"I'm not leaving him, not like this, not when whoever did this is still running around loose!" 

"Taggert's on guard, just outside the door, okay? Anybody who could get past him-" 

"Would have to go through ME." Simon looked down into those blazingly angry eyes, so dark they were almost black, and felt... afraid. Of Sandburg? Yes, of Sandburg. It was a very odd feeling. 

To cover his unease, Simon coughed and said, "Fine. Stay here as long as you want and kill us all with your own stink, I don't care. But you might want to ease up on the grip, or Jim's going to have some broken fingers to go along with his ribs." 

Blair immediately dropped Jim's hand, a guilty look flashing across his face. He flexed his hand slowly, trying to get the feeling back. "I'm sorry, Simon. It's just, I don't know, I kind of feel like if I'm TOUCHING him, nothing bad can happen." He laughed bitterly. "It's stupid, I know." 

Simon turned away from the pain in Blair's voice. He didn't know how to help Blair, and it gave him a hollow feeling inside that he did NOT enjoy. He looked blindly at the far wall, lost in thought. 

Blair reached out a hand, and gently rubbed a finger along Jim's arm. Without turning his head, he asked Simon, "So, you have any leads yet?" 

Simon turned back to Blair, startled. "What? Oh. No, not yet. But it's just a matter of time. I've got Brown and Rafe looking through Jim's old case files. I think Conner had the best idea, though. She's going over all the surveillance tapes. If we can figure out how these punks breached security, then we-" 

"useless" 

Both Blair and Simon whipped their heads around to stare at Jim. Finally Simon spoke. "Jim? Did you say something?" 

"yeah. said it's useless." Jim coughed painfully, his breath rattling in his throat. "give me some ice, chief?" 

Blair grabbed the ice pitcher and brought it over to the bed. "Wait a second, man. Let me raise you up a bit." He pushed the button on the side of the bed, raising Jim's back until he was in a sitting position. He spooned a few ice chips into Jim's mouth. "Just a little bit, okay? Don't want you choking here." 

Jim batted at Blair's hands. "I can feed myself, Sandburg, I'm not an invalid!" He grabbed the pitcher out of Blair's hands. 

Blair glared at him, suddenly furious. "That's right, you're NOT an invalid. You're a guy who had the shit kicked out of him six ways from Sunday! You were unconscious for over ten hours, Jim!" 

"Yeah, well, getting kicked in the head several times will do that to a guy," Jim mumbled from around a mouthful of ice. 

Blair's mouth dropped open in shock. He couldn't believe Jim was being so..., so..., so fucking CASUAL about things. He turned to Simon, the look on his face saying, 'well, YOU talk to him!'. 

Simon stepped to the foot of the bed and rested his hands on it. "Detective." He smiled inwardly as Jim stopped eating ice and looked at him warily. /I've still got it./ "What exactly did you mean by 'useless'?" 

Jim relaxed. "Oh, that. You can call off Major Crimes. They're not going to find anything." 

"I know we ALL can't be Detective of the Year, Ellison, but I think I've got a pretty good set of people working fo-" 

Jim had the grace to look somewhat repentant. "I know that, that's not what I meant. I just meant they wouldn't find anything in my old case files. It wasn't a revenge thing, it was a bunch of uniforms." 

Simon blinked. Surely Jim couldn't be saying what he THOUGHT he was saying. "Uniforms?" he prompted. 

"Yeah, uniforms. You know, patrolmen? My brothers in blue?" 

"Spare me the sarcastic attitude, Detective! Why would your fellow police officers want to beat you almost to death?" 

Inexplicably, Jim shot a quick glance at Blair, before dropping his gaze to his hands and flushing slightly. Blair suddenly found his voice. "It had something to do with me, didn't it? What? Were you defending my honor? Were they mocking my flannel? What?" Jim stayed silent, looking at his hands. 

Blair turned to Simon, who just shrugged. They both turned back to Jim and looked at him expectantly. Jim sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, and rubbed his hands across his face. He finally dropped his hands and spoke to a point somewhere over Simon's left shoulder. "They said I was disgracing the uniform, by letting myself be corrupted by that 'long-haired science fag.' They were determined to show me the error of my ways." He smiled apologetically at Blair. "Nothing personal, Chief." 

Blair was doing a fine impression of a fish, his mouth opening and closing with almost no sound. "What the HELL? That is SO wrong, on so many levels, that I can barely begin to deconstruct it. Morally, socially, culturally,..." He broke off, looking obscurely insulted. "And what the HELL is a 'science fag'?" 

Simon thought it was time to step in. He pointed a finger at Jim. "So. You're telling me you got the crap beat out of you by a bunch of cops?" 

"Yeah." 

"And these cops thought you were disgracing the force because they thought you were gay? Because they thought you were-" 

"--fucking Blair? Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying." 

Blair stepped forward to glare at Jim. "That doesn't make any sense! If they thought I was the corrupting influence, the 'long-haired science fag', why didn't they beat up ME? Huh? Why you?" 

Jim sighed again. He really wanted to just go home. "Well, they kind of figured you couldn't help it, Chief. That it was just your nature. But I'M an ex-Ranger, Detective of the Year, a man's man. They thought I could have shown more will-power." 

"More will-power?" 

"Yeah." 

"More will-power! Like what, I'm that second piece of cheesecake you don't really need? That is just fucked UP, Jim!" 

"Sandburg, that's what they told me, okay? They're a bunch of homophobic pricks; what the hell do you expect?" 

"I expect people, cops especially, to have a decent reason, a reason that makes SENSE, before setting out to commit felonious assault, THAT'S what I expect!" 

Simon put a restraining hand on Blair's shoulder. "Calm down, Sandburg! You're taking this kind of personally." 

Blair looked at Simon as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head. "Jim got beat up because of me! They almost KILLED him! Because of me! You can bet your ASS I'm taking it personally!" 

"I'm just saying calm down a little. We need to have clear heads to take care of this." Simon turned to Jim. "Did you see their faces? Would you recognize any of them again?" 

"No, they all wore ski-masks. But finding them won't be a problem." 

"Really, Detective? You psychic now? Your Sentinel senses have expanded to include a sixth sense?" 

"No, Captain, I'm not psychic. But my sense of smell is working fine. We'll go talk to the uniforms, I'll see who smells of fear and guilt, we'll send Conner to question them, maybe kick over a chair or two... without that pack mentality, they'll cave." 

Blair perked up, personal insults forgotten. "You can smell guilt, Jim? Cool! What does it smell like? Can you tell the DEGREE of guilt, or just guilt in general? And what-" He trailed off and both Jim and Simon turned to glare at him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Not the time for experiments." He threw himself down into the chair and muttered, "Like it's EVER time for experiments." 

Jim turned back to Simon. "Catching them will be no problem. But that's not the point, is it?" 

Simon looked confused. "Actually, I thought that WAS the point. Don't we want to catch them?" 

"Of course we want to catch them! But the point is they think they can use force to change my sexuality, change who I love, and personally, I think that's even WORSE than beating me up!" 

Blair looked stunned, and Simon took a step back, raising his hands. "Whoa! Is there something you gentlemen want to tell me? Or maybe, something you want to NOT tell me?" 

Blair was sputtering. "Simon! We're not! I mean, I'M not, I've never, WE'VE never - Jim! Tell him!" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "No, Simon, Blair and I are not having some tawdry affair, okay? But-" 

Blair interrupted, "What, with me it would HAVE to be tawdry?" He wilted under the glares directed at him by Jim and Simon. "This is me shutting up now." 

"As I was saying," said Jim, with a final quelling glance at Blair, "they THOUGHT I was having sex with Blair, and just because they didn't like the idea, they thought they had the right to beat me up, to make me stop. That's wrong. It's illegal, it's morally repugnant, and I'm NOT going to let that bunch of pricks think they can intimidate me." 

Simon rubbed his chin. "I see what you mean. But how do you plan on showing them you're not intimidated?" 

Jim looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. Maybe I could tongue-kiss Sandburg in the bullpen?" 

* * *

Blair slammed through the door to the loft and threw his backpack in the general direction of his bedroom. He headed straight for the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and had it half-finished by the time Jim limped through the door. 

Jim closed the door and dropped his keys into the basket. "Oh, come on, Chief! You're not still mad, are you?" 

Blair turned away from Jim and continued drinking. 

Jim sighed. "Look, it was kind of funny, when you think about it." 

Blair turned back to Jim, and when he spoke, his voice was icy. "I HAVE thought about it, and it was NOT funny. In fact, Jim, it was the complete and utter opposite of funny." 

Jim sank into the corner of the couch with a sigh of relief. "I TOLD you I was going to do it, Chief. It's not like it came as a surprise." 

"Jim! You French-kissed me! In the bullpen! In front of everyone!" 

"So? You've been kissed before, haven't you? The way you're carrying on, it's like I violated a virgin or something." 

"Jii-iim! You KISSED me! And grabbed my ass! In the bullpen! Now everyone thinks we're-" He broke off and made a gesture with his fist. 

"News flash, Peter Parker, but everybody ALREADY thinks we're-" Jim repeated Blair's gesture. "That's why I got beat up, remember?" 

Blair finished his beer and dropped the bottle into the recycling. "Yeah, I remember, Jim. You scared the shit out of me, I'm not likely to forget it." He sighed and leaned against the kitchen table. "So now what?" 

"Huh?" 

"I mean, you're the man, okay? You take a licking, you keep on ticking. But do you think it's enough? Are they going to realize they can't intimidate you, and leave you alone? Or are you going to have to do something ELSE to convince them?" 

"Well, I've been thinking about that." 

"And?" 

Jim looked down at his hands, and the looked up at Blair, his expression hopeful. "I was thinking we SHOULD have an affair." 

Blair just stared at him, his mouth open. 

Jim hurried to explain. "Well, that kiss, I mean it was great and all, but it was just a kiss. If we were sleeping together, we've have a connection that we couldn't fake, that everyone would see. So then they'd KNOW there was nothing they could do to tear us apart." 

Blair closed his mouth with a snap. "I do not BELIEVE you, man!" 

"What?" 

Blair stalked over to the couch and poked Jim in the chest. "I am NOT having a homosexual affair with you just so you can keep your macho image!" He glared at Jim. "And what the hell are you laughing at?" 

Jim clutched a pillow as he tried to control his laughter. "That is one fucked-up sentence, Chief!" 

"What?!" 

"You're probably the only person on the planet who thinks that gay sex would make me more macho." He laughed harder. "Should I be insulted?" 

Despite himself, Blair began laughing as well. He sat down next to Jim and punched him in the arm. "That's not how I meant it, you bastard! And you know it!" 

"Yeah, I know, Chief. I almost always know what you mean." Jim rubbed his arm. "I still think we should do it, though." 

"Have an affair?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why?" Blair crossed his arms and looked steadily at Jim, all traces of humor wiped from his face. 

Jim swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This was going to be harder than he had thought. "When they were kicking me, I kept thinking that it could easily have been you. That they were hurting, I mean. And I couldn't STAND that idea, you know? I was almost HAPPY that it was me, because that meant they were keeping away from you." 

"Oh, Jim." 

"Later, in the hospital, I was thinking about WHY I felt that way. And all the rumors about us, ever since you started living here, why they didn't bother me. Because you'd think they would, wouldn't you? But they never did." 

Jim reached out and gently clasped Blair's hand. "And then I realized that they didn't bother me because I WANTED them to be true. I wanted us to be lovers, just like everybody already thought." 

"Jim, I..., I..." 

Jim pulled his hand away and sighed heavily. "Don't worry about it, Sandburg. I'm not going to force myself on you, or anything. I just thought you deserved to know." 

Blair hit Jim on the arm again. "Idiot!" He smiled at Jim's shocked look. "Why do you think I was so mad at you for kissing me? For wanting to have an affair?" Jim shook his head, confused. 

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, you 'almost always know what I mean.' You putz! I was mad at you because I didn't think you meant it! I thought you were just using me to prove a point! And I really, REALLY wanted you to mean it." 

Jim smiled, that slow, dazzling smile that lit up a room. "Really?" 

"Really." 

They looked at each other for a moment, just smiling, and then Blair launched himself at Jim, straddling his hips and burying his face in Jim's neck. Jim brought his hands up and worked them deep into Blair's hair. He pulled Blair's head back and dove into that perfect, beautiful mouth. Sensations exploded over him, taste, sound, smell... an experience beyond any he had ever had before. I have no words for this, he thought. It's a new language, a new world, it's... Blair. 

Jim shuddered at the sound of Blair's quiet moans, the feel of him beneath his hands, the heat of his swelling erection rubbing against Blair's, the layers of cloth between them only accentuating the desire. He pulled his mouth away from Blair's and sucked in some desperately-need air; pleased to see that Blair was breathing just as heavily. 

Jim brushed his thumb across Blair's swollen lips. Blair shivered. Jim tilted his head. "Take this upstairs?" Blair nodded, a dazed look in his eyes. Hand in hand, they walked to the stairs, anticipation swelling. 

Blair stopped at the foot of the stair, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Hey, Jim? We're going to have to send them flowers or something." 

Jim shook his head, already halfway lost in the smell and texture of Blair's hair. "Send WHO flowers, Chief?" 

"Those cops. They tried to tear us apart, and instead they brought us closer together. Great good from evil. Now THAT'S karma, man." 

Jim narrowed his eyes. "You're a weird little thing, aren't you? It's a good thing I love you, 'cause otherwise I wouldn't be able to stand you." 

Blair looked at Jim, his eyes shinning. "You love me?" 

Jim trailed a hand across Blair's chest. His voice was low, husky, and beyond sexy. "Go upstairs, and I'll SHOW you how much I love you." 

Blair leaned in and bit Jim's lip. "Maybe I'll show YOU, Jim, ever think about that?" 

Jim slapped Blair on the ass. "Every day, Chief. Every day, and every night." 

Laughing, the two men climbed the stairs and finally, * finally * completed the bond that they had started more than three years ago. 

* * *

End Springtime For Hitler by Blankety: blankstreet@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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